


Kaer Morhen Mocha

by NephilimEQ



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Complete, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Humor, Inspired by Twitter, M/M, Modern AU, Morning After, Smut, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Ships It, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephilimEQ/pseuds/NephilimEQ
Summary: Jaskier steps into a new coffee shop, Kaer Morhen Mocha, and ends up seeing the most beautiful man he's ever seen in his life...and so he does what he does with all the things in his personal life: he tweets about it.'...Dammit. This was the bad first impression that wouldn’t end, he thought to himself and quickly took a sip of his coffee to cover up just how insecure he was feeling. He was hopeless around attractive people, but Geralt was really helping him raise the bar in how much of an ass he could make of himself in a short amount of time. With every moment, the bar just kept getting higher and higher, and Jaskier was meeting it with every ill-conceived sentence.'
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 34
Kudos: 425





	Kaer Morhen Mocha

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a brilliant fake twitter feed that someone on Tumblr made and I got permission from her to use it and turn it into a modern AU fanfic of our two wonderful boys!

** **

** Kaer Morhen Mocha **

Jaskier made himself comfortable as he sat down in the corner of a booth in _Kaer Morhen Mocha_ , the newest coffee shop in Continent City, and took a good long look around as he did so, thinking of how to make the best of his visit there that afternoon.

He was somewhat of a local fixture in the city, having played nearly every music venue in town, and knew that his followers on Instagram and Twitter would be looking for a new post and that this was most certainly the place to do it, as not only was it new and was known for its unusual flavor combinations in its coffees, as well as its pastries, but it also had open mic nights and would be the perfect new venue for pushing his newest album, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

First of all, the whole coffee shop looked like it had been renovated from an industrial building and that aesthetic was definitely doing something for him…but it was also _more_ than just a coffee shop.

 _Kaer Morhen Mocha_ stretched up for three floors, each one at least fifteen feet high, and from where Jaskier sat in the corner, he could see that it had a massive modern library on the second floor, with old maps on the walls, along with some special section for much older books all sealed up tight behind locked glass, and there was some sort of training dojo on the top floor, called Rivian Fitness. Jaskier was itching to sneak up to the top floor and take some pictures; not of the training, but of the perfect view that he was certain existed that came from the corner of the spiral stairwell that led straight up through all the floors to the roof, and had a glass partition that showed the customers on the first floor just enough to entice them into asking questions. He also had the sneaking suspicion that there was an apartment for the owner up there, as well.

While in the middle of his staring and marveling at the general massive splendor of the space, a waitress came over to him, all pale with matching white blonde hair and striking eyes, with the black apron on that had the wolf’s head logo on the front, and said in a peppy tone, “Welcome to Kaer Morhen Mocha! My name’s Ciri and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you?”

She gave him a bright smile and Jaskier couldn’t helped but be charmed by her overall appearance and pleasant demeanor.

Putting down the menu, he looked her in the eye and said in his most sincere tone, “Surprise me. I trust you’ll pick something that I’ve never had before,” he added with a quick wink, and she giggled…but then her eyes went wide and she said, “Wait, I know you…you’re Dandelion the Lark! I mean,” she quickly corrected herself, “You’re Jaskier. Oh my gosh, I’ve been following your music for so long, I am such a fan!”

He smiled and indulged her for a moment as she asked him a couple of questions and he answered them and signed a napkin for her, that she shyly tucked away into her apron, smiling the entire time.

He was used to that reaction from his fans, but she seemed more sincere than most, and there was a sense of innocence about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was endearing.

She quickly finished and said, “I’ll get you something from our secret menu items. Trust me, you’ll love it,” she added with a wink of her own, and then practically skipped away, while he shook his head in amusement, but also feeling like he’d made a new friend.

While he waited for his food and drink, he looked around the coffee shop, getting a feel for the type of clientele that they drew in. It seemed to be a mix of people Ciri’s age (late teens), up to people in their mid-forties, and they seemed to come from all walks of life: he saw long-haired hippies, a few of the typical hipster crowd in their suspenders, fedoras, and beards, and then there were even a few metalheads, it looked like, as he strained and looked over in the far corner at a small group of men in their late thirties all wearing t-shirts with that god-awful metal band _The Drowners_ on the front of it.

As he looked, fascinated by the sheer diversity, he pulled out his phone and opened his twitter account, thinking he might send off a couple of tweets into the void. When he looked back up, his eyes caught on someone with neon pink hair and then he suddenly saw a flash of silver-gray hair in the corner of his eye, and it intrigued him.

He turned a bit in his seat, trying to keep from being obvious, to get a better look…and just about swallowed his tongue.

Good god.

Holy Christ on a cracker, no man should be allowed to look that good.

The man in question was one with the silver-gray hair that had caught his eye. Though the look was overdone by certain people (and usually aged them significantly), this guy pulled it off beautifully…but it probably had to do with the fact that he was so beautiful that Jaskier didn’t think that it was physically possible to make the man look ugly.

He had a jaw that could cut steel, arms that looked like he could hug a tree and break it, and his eyes were solid gold. Even from where Jaskier was sitting, he could see them.

He looked down at his phone, realizing that he still had his twitter open…and then made a decision. A really horrible one, now that he thought about it, but it was too late because he’d already shot off the first tweet that he was sure would be the first of many from his **dandelion** **🌸✨** account.

His thumbs typed quickly: **_dandelion_** _ok so creep mode activated but holy shit I think I just saw a man so beautiful I almost cried into my tea_.

Okay, so there wasn’t any _actual_ tea in front of him, but it was the thought that counted, Jaskier reasoned to himself, looking once more over at the man, who sat at least a head taller than anyone else at his table. There was a woman sitting next to him that he thought he recognized, wearing a black, off-the-shoulder corseted top and deep violet lipstick, her long black hair cascading down tanned shoulders…and Jaskier startled. That was Yennefer, a sort-of rival somewhat friend of his that he’d known since they’d met several years ago at one of his gigs.

Well, more enemy than friend, to be honest.

They texted back and forth fairly regularly, trading insults, though they did have a sort of tentative friendship, but the only question in Jaskier’s mind was who the hell was she sitting with?

He looked back at the man and was taken aback when his serious, stoic face suddenly broke into a sort of half-smile, half-smirk, his hair falling across his cheek, and then next thing Jaskier knew he was shooting off another tweet before he could stop himself: **_dandelion_** _like I know the whole gray hair look was popular like two years ago but holy shit??? and punk aesthetic. I’m into it._

Yeah, so the man’s wardrobe was also a thing of beauty and Jaskier wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to control himself if the man stood up, because he was fairly certain that those pants of his, or what he could see of them, anyway, were painted on. They looked like leather, and along with the loose, black tunic-style shirt, Jaskier suddenly found that he just might have a new kink. Good god, that shouldn’t be allowed in public. How the _hell_ was that man legal in public?

His phone pinged a few times, so he knew that his tweets were getting hits, but he could _not_ tear his eyes from the man as he shifted in his seat, and then looked over in Jaskier’s direction, as if he could feel him staring, and Jaskier, like an idiot, didn’t look away when the man locked eyes with him and glared.

Oh god, he should be terrified, but he wasn’t because he somehow desperately needed this man to notice him and the humiliation of being caught was probably worth it.

His gold eyes leveled with his hazel ones and the man’s mouth went into a straight, grim line…but then it was if he didn’t notice him and he looked away, back to Yennefer and the two other people they sat with.

Jaskier’s fingers seemed to move of his own accord as he typed once more: **_dandelion_** _he’s going to sit in here. god. that jawline. and that glare. very impressive sir, indeed. consider me frightened._ And then, not a second later, he shot off: **_dandelion_** _like, in a good way._

It wasn’t as if the man was reading his tweets, but Jaskier suddenly felt exposed when the man glanced down at his phone as it pinged on the table, and Jaskier noticed Yennefer also glancing down at her phone, as if it had just done something odd, and her eyebrow shot up and she looked amused.

No. She didn’t follow him on twitter and neither did a complete stranger.

Eh, he was fine.

Ciri suddenly popped over to the man’s table and he actually smiled at her and then ordered in a low tone that made Jaskier’s breath catch and his stomach clench in an all-too-pleasant way, “I’ll take my usual, Ciri. And a double espresso for Yen, extra foam and chocolate sprinkles. She’s having a bad day,” he added, and Jaskier didn’t know what to do with himself. Not only was the man attractive, but he had a voice that made Jaskier want to drop to his _knees_.

Again, his fingers moved before his common sense did, and he typed out: **_dandelion_** _okay he just ordered and even his voice is hot how is this fair? like gravely, super monotone,_ and he pressed send, and then he started reading the comments on his other tweets and wanted to cringe.

Okay, so, yeah, he sounded like a stalker, but he couldn’t _help_ himself! It was entirely the other man’s fault for being so breathtakingly gorgeous that he was overriding the musician’s common sense. Yes, entirely his fault. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself but kept on reading the comments and snorted when he read someone’s reply that said: _good god, quit teasing and just send us a picture of the man, already! if he’s that hot, then we all deserve a look._

Yeah, no, that was not happening.

Trying to defend his actions and some of the other man’s honor, he tweeted out: **_dandelion_** _jfc guys I’m not gonna take a picture. this is like pretty fucking uh, stalker-ish? anyway. he’s gorgeous. I’m a disaster. help._

He looked back over at the table that was only a mere ten feet away, trying not to get caught staring, still baffled how the other man hadn’t noticed Jaskier staring before, and then was taken aback when those yellow-gold eyes caught his. Jaskier swallowed, certain that the man was going to come over and pummel him, despite the approving gesture, and so was baffled when the man seemed perfectly comfortable holding his gaze and Jaskier was certain that he was about to spontaneously combust.

Instead, he slowly, blindly typed out, as he held the man’s gaze: **_dandelion_** _our eyes just met. I have goosebumps. they were so intense. like, yellow? sir, are you aware of that you’re a cryptid?_

The man finally dropped his gaze and Jaskier turned back to his table to catch his breath, unsure of what the hell had just happened. Ciri then appeared next to him and said, “Here you go, sir, a cayenne-lime latte, better than it sounds, I assure you, and a piece of our cinnamon-cayenne crumble cake to go with it!” She placed it in front of him and Jaskier swallowed and nodded politely, and then regretted not saying anything as she walked away, headed back over to the stranger’s table.

Jaskier absently stirred his drink with the coffee stirrer and took a sip and was pleasantly surprised at the flavor that burst over his tongue. Different than anything he’d ever had before, but it definitely tasted like something that he could easily get addicted to… just like something else he could mention.

He brushed it off to the side, and then his phone pinged.

He looked down at it and smiled. His last tweet was getting some traction and a lot of people seemed amused by his tweet thread and were offering him suggestions on how he could go over and ask the man out. Yeah, right. Like _that_ would ever happen.

Jaskier adjusted himself in his seat, wondering why he was uncomfortable, and then remembered the remains of the sandwich that he’d eaten for his lunch, earlier, just the crusts wrapped up in paper and shoved into the pocket of his jeans because he hadn’t been able to find a trashcan nearby, and now he felt even more awkward than before. Ask him out? Like this? Yeah, that would _never_ happen.

Deciding to make a joke of it, he tweeted, **_dandelion_** _do yall think he’d be impressed by the bread I still have from my lunch? I wanna talk to him I wish the clock was reasonable drinking-time o’clock._

His phone started getting loud and he snorted in amusement as people added more comments that were even better additions than his own and he reasoned that this was why he was still single: the only people who appreciated his humor were funnier than he was, so he was also inherently only attracted to people who were more attractive than he was, therefore, people out of his league.

He took another sip of his drink…and then just about spit it out when he saw a response from Yen on twitter.

And it simply said: **_lilac_** _wait you’re totally talking about **@wolfofrivia** aren’t you?_

Holy shit, she _followed_ his account? And who the hell was this wolfofrivia that she was referring to? Jaskier glanced at his follower page and checked the search bar, praying that he was wrong…but no such luck. Instead, there was the man’s profile and account, the guy that he had been _very_ accurately describing and thirsting over in his tweets…and the man _followed_ him on Twitter.

Which meant he’d seen the entire tweet thread.

He ducked his head, feeling his cheeks burning, and tweeted back at her: **_dandelion_** _YENNEFER WHAT THE FUCK,_ thoroughly embarrassed because not only had she messaged him publicly, but she’d tagged the man in the tweet and now Jaskier’s social life was officially over and he was going to be banned from ever using Twitter again, and he was going to find the nearest hole in the ground and bury himself in it because he’d never been more mortified in his entire life.

He took a bite of his cake, which was just like the coffee: though the flavor was unexpected, it was remarkably good, and it was pleasant enough to slightly distract him from the situation that he found himself in. God, he was an _idiot_ , why the hell had he tweeted all about it live? And now Yen was involved, which meant it was certain to be even more humiliating.

Jaskier finally chanced a glance over in their direction and saw Yen leaning back and smirking at him, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in his direction, her arms sprawled out behind her, one of them behind the man’s shoulders.

She was the woman who was going to help him end his entire career.

Gods have mercy.

He turned back to his food and wondered if there was any way that he could salvage his reputation with the man after the disaster that was his relationship with his twitter profile. Jaskier finally decided to finish eating and _then_ come up with a plan. Maybe, if he was lucky (which didn’t seem possible, considering everything that had happened so far), when he was done, the man would be gone.

Instead, as he ate, he noticed he got a text from Yen and he mentally groaned. God, what the hell did she want, now?

 _He’d probably say yes if you asked him out,_ her message read, and he did a double take. Was she…trying to _help_ him? Okay, now that was definitely not like her. Curious, he looked up from his food and over in her direction and she gave him a look that wasn’t quite a smile and wiggled her fingers at him in the semblance of a wave, and he knew that, yes, she was _actually_ trying to help him. Oh, boy, his love life was all sorts of fucked up if a woman he saw as an enemy was trying to help set him up.

Biting the bullet, he put his phone on silent and put it back into his pocket and went back to his food and coffee. After. He would deal with it after.

Less than five minutes later, he was done with the cake and hating himself even more. It was after. Now he had to deal with it.

He removed the last of the crumbs from the plate and then reluctantly stood up, grabbed his coat and cup, and then made his way over to where Yennefer and the man were sitting, Yen giving him the biggest shit eating grin that he’d ever seen and never had he been more motivated to try and prove her wrong, because it was obvious from her look that she was expecting him to crash and burn, despite her encouraging text.

Fuck her.

He swallowed and kept on walking towards the table and was taken aback when the man shot a glare around the table and they all got up and left, leaving Jaskier standing a foot away, baffled by the fact that it was suddenly just the two of them. Alone.

He licked his lips and then caught the man’s eye and said, helplessly, “I love the way you just…sit in the corner and brood.”

Gods above, why did he even bother to open his mouth?

“I was here with friends,” the man said in the low, delightfully gravelly voice of his, and Jaskier hastily nodded and said, “Good, yeah, good,” and then pressed his hip against the edge of the table and then said, “So, Yennefer didn’t hesitate to make fun of my twitter tirade. You must have something to say as well.” The man looked up at him, calculating, and then, because Jaskier had no control over his mouth, he said, “C’mon. You don’t want to keep a man with…bread in his pants…waiting.”

He should _not_ be allowed to speak, especially when he spoke to attractive men, because he just turned into an idiot and, god, he just wanted to go up in flames right where he stood, because what the _hell_ kind of pickup line was _that?_ He was an absolute wreck.

“Hmm.”

Even when monosyllabic, the man was attractive.

Jaskier decided he needed to stop standing, as he was most likely drawing more attention to himself, and so he sat down opposite him and said, “You must have something to say to me, three words or less.” He gave him a look and added, “Even if all you have to say to me is fuck off, I’ll accept that as a reasonable review.”

That seemed to strike a chord with the man, and the corner of his mouth lifted, and he said, “It wasn’t as bad as all that. Rather flattering, to be honest,” and Jaskier felt like he’d already won.

“Really?” he inquired. “Which part?”

He just smirked at him and said, “My name’s Geralt.”

God, even his name was amazing and Jaskier didn’t know what to say to that, because it was obvious that this Geralt already knew who he was because he was following him on twitter. So, instead he settled himself in the seat across from him and put his cup of coffee between his hands, worrying it back and forth, trying to settle his already shot nerves.

Geralt hadn’t answered the question, but that was alright, so instead he asked a different question.

“How about we move past my mortifyingly embarrassing moment, and let me ask you this: are you wearing contacts of some kind? Or is that all, you know…natural?”

Good. He hadn’t stammered or spilled his coffee over himself and he sounded coherent. This was definitely progress in the conversation area, and that meant that he might be able to recover from his twitter fumble earlier, or at least Jaskier hoped that he could.

Geralt chuckled (god, that _seriously_ did something for him), and answered, “They’re real. A genetic abnormality,” he explained in that lovely voice of his. “And, before you ask, so’s the hair. The rest, well…I guess I’ll leave that up to you to decide,” he said with a smirk and Jaskier swallowed at the implications. Had that god of a man just _flirted_ with him? He stared at him, briefly lost in the color of his eyes, baffled by how soft they seemed compared to the rest of his hard edges.

“Uh, yes, that would be…most enjoyable,” he distractedly replied and immediately regretted his choice of words.

Dammit. This was the bad first impression that wouldn’t end, he thought to himself and quickly took a sip of his coffee to cover up just how insecure he was feeling. He was hopeless around attractive people, but Geralt was really helping him raise the bar in how much of an ass he could make of himself in a short amount of time. With every moment, the bar just kept getting higher and higher, and Jaskier was meeting it with every ill-conceived sentence.

After an awkward moment, he asked, “So, how do you know Yennefer?” to which Geralt rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s complicated. Not a particularly favorite subject of mine,” he admitted and Jaskier snorted and remarked, “Oh, she’s not a favorite subject of mine, either; don’t worry. I will gladly talk about anything else.”

He shot him a bright smile and was thrilled when he got a soft smile of amusement in return.

Geralt then took him off guard with, “I like your music. I’ve seen you perform a few times across the city, actually,” he admitted and Jaskier beamed.

“You’ve seen me perform? Really?”

The older man nodded.

“Yes. You have a talent and you seem to enjoy what you do with it, and are lucky you’ve made a career with it,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “So few people seem to find pleasure in what they do with their lives, and so it’s nice to see that someone still does.”

Jaskier’s breath caught in his chest at hearing those words fall from Geralt’s lips, and it was as if he’d been given something rare…so, of course, true to form, he managed to muck it all up by responding with, “Well, in that case, what pleases you, Geralt?”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. The instant he said it, he knew how it sounded and wanted to bury his head in his hands. He didn’t, however, and managed to keep it together long enough to duck his eyes away from the older man’s and pull his coffee closer to his chest. Any second now, Geralt was going to glare at him and tell him to go ahead and leave…but when he heard another chuckle, he looked up and saw Geralt looking back at him with a slight amused tilt on his lips.

“I’m fine with you finding out. Here,” he said, reaching out for Jaskier’s hand and pulling out a pen from out of nowhere. “This is my number. Call me, text me, whichever is easier for you. I’d like to get back to spending some time with my friends.”

Jaskier stared, not quite sure what had just happened, but slowly nodded and got to his feet, heading to the door. Just before he left, he looked down at his hand…and then back over his shoulder at the man who looked like he was holding court, Yennefer on one side of him, looking like she belonged next to him, all raven hair and violet eyes, nearly as exotic as him in her looks, and the two other men were dressed similarly to Geralt, but neither of them came close to his beauty, though they seemed to be focused solely on the white-haired man.

He took one last look and then walked the three blocks back to his apartment, and as soon as he walked through the door, he pulled up twitter and began to type.

**_dandelion_ ** _okay since yall asked for it. here’s an update on hot cryptid man. whose name is geralt btw._

Tweet sent, and now a new thread started, so he sent an immediate follow-up of, **_dandelion_** _so. he was not impressed by my bread. I mean I told him I had more in my pocket but yeah no he wouldn’t even look :(_ He kept it simple and tried to keep the mood light with each tweet.

 ** _dandelion_** _and we began talking and fuck yall he’s??? dreamy???? and so quiet but like I was babble and got lost in his eyes like oh my dayssss_. Jaskier paused there and wondered for a moment if he didn’t have a problem with how he tweeted…but then brushed it off.

He shot out the next one: **_dandelion_** _also he said things with yennefer was “complicated” wtf when is anything with her not complicated?????_ and quickly followed that one up with, **_dandelion_** _ps yennefer I love u._

At that, he got several remarks, and then finally thought about what had just happened in the coffee shop. Despite making a complete and total ass of himself, he had landed the guy’s number. He had actually _gotten_ Geralt’s number. His number! Holy shit. It finally sunk in. He regretted nothing with his next tweet:

**_dandelion_ ** _AND GUESS WHAT??? I SOMEHOW ENDED UP WITH HIS NUMBER???_

Which he immediately followed with, **_dandelion_** _should I text him??_ and then he tweeted, **_dandelion_** _should I ask him out rn? starting a poll hold on_ , and he went to do just that, pulling up the part of the app that allowed him to make polls, but was interrupted by a ding that told him that he had a direct message.

He paled when he saw who it was and felt like an idiot.

**_wolfofrivia @dandelion_ ** _I follow you on Twitter, Jaskier._

Duh. So, he made the most of his error and tweeted right back at him, **_dandelion_** **_@wolfofrivia_** _oh right! hey wanna go out?_

Instead of getting a response from Geralt, he suddenly had a tweet from Yen staring back at him, and it said, **_lilac_** _Geralt says yes._

Okay, yes, he wanted to strangle her, but at the same time, Jaskier felt elated and fell back against his door and slid down until he was on the floor. Yes, he had an answer, but he wanted one back from the man himself, so he bit the bullet and called him, feeling that the only way that he could believe it was if he heard Geralt say it out loud.

It rang once and then he picked up.

“Hello, Jaskier,” he said, and the musician smiled, feeling giddy, and Jaskier asked, “So, do you really want to go out with me or is this just Yen fucking with me in the way that she usually does? Because I wouldn’t put it past her to get my hopes up just to see me fall. She gets a kick out of that sort of thing, the sadist,” he remarked, only somewhat serious.

Geralt chuckled and Jaskier basked in the warmth of it.

He then answered, “Yes, I would like to go out with you,” and Jaskier breathed out a sigh of relief. “Now, you couldn’t have asked me back in the coffee shop?” he said, and Jaskier snorted.

“Oh, gods, you saw how well I was handling that situation,” he remarked, laughing, “Do you honestly think that I could have asked you out without making even more of an arse of myself?” and Geralt laughed at that and replied, “Okay, you might have a point there. You were rather…well, you know.”

Jaskier chuckled and said, “Exactly. Thank you for putting it into words so eloquently.”

They both laughed over it and then Geralt said, “Glad to help.”

There was another pause, and so Jaskier quickly filled it with, “Well, since you said yes, I was wondering when you’d like to go out? I don’t have another gig for a while, now, and while I’m looking, I was thinking about the Kaer Morhen, so I thought…we could go there for our first date?”

There was a long lingering silence, and he thought that he might have said something wrong, but then Geralt let out a low chuckle and answered, “I’m fine with that, it’s just…odd. Going to dinner with you, back at where we first met.” He paused and then said, “Did you like the food there? I know it’s…different.”

Jaskier chuckled.

“I did. Unexpected, but good. Why do you ask?”

Geralt took him off guard when he explained, “I’m a co-owner, and I like to make sure my customers are enjoying their experience there.” He didn’t know what to say. As if reading his mind, the man said, “Most people don’t know I’m an owner. I work on the top floor. The dojo.”

…And just like that, it all made sense. Jaskier recalled the logo on the aprons, the wolf head, and he suddenly put it together: Kaer Morhen Mocha was owned by the dojo above, which was also known as Rivian Fitness. His twitter handle: **wolfofrivia.** He worked for the place above that owned the whole building. Okay, so he was idiot of the largest caliber.

“God, I’m an idiot,” he muttered into the phone, and he heard Geralt’s warm chuckle over the line. He thought he might already be falling in love, and boy, was _that_ quick.

“I’ll make my judgment later over dinner,” he replied, and Jaskier melted a bit more. “Speaking of dinner, our entertainment for tomorrow night cancelled on us, so I thought we could have dinner first and then you could fill in for them?”

There was a long pause while Jaskier’s mind bluescreened and then he finally came back to himself long enough to stammer out, “Did you just—did you—did—did you just ask me to dinner and then offer me a job at the same time?”

Another low chuckle.

“Yes.”

And he slid a bit further down the slippery slope that was his affection for the man. Gods, he was falling hard and fast and it was going to be his complete undoing…not that he was really complaining, mind you; he was thoroughly enjoying every single moment of it. Hell, he was more than halfway in love with the man, despite the fact that he barely knew him.

“Okay, so…tomorrow night?” Jaskier prodded, “At six?”

He could practically see Geralt’s nod in his head as he hummed and then said, “Sounds good. Meet you there.”

They hung up and Jaskier stayed sitting on the floor for a long time afterwards, feeling as if he’d just run a marathon, trying to catch his breath, laughing under his breath at the absurdity of it all. He had a date with the hottest man that he’d ever met in his entire life. And not only was he attractive, he was charming, as well, in a sort of monosyllabic, silent way. He was a walking disaster, and he didn’t know why the hell Geralt had said yes to him.

But he had.

Thank the gods above, he had. Jaskier grinned, feeling manic. He’d said _yes._

He withheld the impulse to jump up and punch the air and yell at the top of his lungs that he had a date with the most amazing man he’d ever met.

My god…what the fuck was he going to wear?

\--

Thankfully, the next day, as he pulled on his jacket, he found that he had just the right outfit to try and seduce the man in. Jaskier wore his tightest jeans and one of his low v-neck shirts, with a pair of boots thrown on for good measure. He withheld the urge to wrap a scarf around his exposed neck, knowing that he had to show a little skin if he was going to draw him in enough to get lucky on a first date…but he also knew the chances of him getting lucky on a first date were low, especially with a man as good-looking as Geralt.

He barely remembered his guitar as he left the apartment, so focused on the date that he nearly forgot about the fact that he was also performing that night at the coffee shop. It was almost an afterthought, to be honest, because he was so focused on the date.

As soon as he walked into the coffee shop, he said to himself, “Breathe, Jaskier. Breathe.”

He stepped into the main area and swiveled his head, looking around for the familiar shock of white and silver hair…and smiled when he saw him walking towards him, the corner of his mouth barely lifted, but it was enough to let him know that he was happy to see him.

“Jaskier,” he said in that low, growly voice of his as he approached, and he had to keep himself from blushing like a schoolgirl.

“Geralt, good to see you,” he said as the man lead them both over to a table in the corner with his fingers pressed gently into Jaskier’s lower back. The heat of his hand distracted him enough that he said nothing as Geralt put Jaskier’s guitar to the side, sat the two of them down, and then waved Ciri over to their table, who grinned and practically bounced on her toes as she stood next to them with her notepad out.

She then asked brightly, “What can I get you two?”

Geralt arched an eyebrow in his direction and Jaskier suddenly felt just as disjointed as he’d felt the day before when he’d introduced himself.

“Uh, uh…food. Yes, food would be good,” he said as he fumbled for the menu, not noticing the way Ciri seemed endeared by it, and then managed to get out, “Uh, what I had yesterday? I really enjoyed it and wouldn’t mind having it again.”

Ciri smiled wide and nodded.

“One cayenne-lime latte and a piece of our cinnamon cayenne crumble cake, coming right up! I’ll add some sweet potato-chili fries, as well, just for you,” she added with a wink. “And you, Geralt?”

She turned to him and winked, and Jaskier was confused when he chuckled and said, “You know what I like, girl. Now, go get along,” he added with a wave of his fingers, and she skipped off, her long, almost icy blonde hair trailing behind her, and the singer couldn’t help but stare after her for a moment, and then turned and gave Geralt a look.

“How well do you know her?” he asked, genuinely curious, and was baffled when Geralt actually laughed, and answered, “She’s my ward. I’ve known her since she was born, but I’ve been taking care of her since she was eleven, so, for the past eight years.”

Jaskier leaned in slightly, pressing his forearms into the table, “She’s precious. And apparently also an avid fan of mine,” he admitted, ducking his head, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Geralt grunted and all he said was, “Hmm,” but it sounded fond. He didn’t know how so few syllables could sound so fond, but they did, and he found it utterly endearing. He leaned back a bit and fiddled with the ring on his right hand, not quite meeting his eye, feeling unsure of what to say next.

There was only a brief moment of silence, and then Geralt gestured to the guitar and asked, “How long have you played?”

“Since I was a child,” Jaskier quickly replied. “My parents saw my talent and immediately shipped me off to the best musical school they could find, Oxenfurt Academy.” He picked absently at his napkin. “Didn’t see them much after that,” he admitted, “But I made a lot of friends. That’s how I met Maddy, the woman who sings with me on occasion; we were in the same classes and she liked my playing style, so we started to collaborate. Not much these days, but we still hang out every now and then. What about you?”

Geralt shrugged and hummed, yet again, and Jaskier huffed and shook his head, though smiling, and pressed, “Oh, c’mon. My life is out there for anyone to dig through on the internet. You, on the other hand, are all…” He gestured up and down with his hand. “…Tall and mysterious and intriguing. So, what about your life? Your friends?”

He looked a bit annoyed, but then the older man finally relented.

“I grew up here, back when it was an old apartment complex, and then started training when I was young.” He tilted his head and said, “We updated everything when I was sixteen. Turned it into a coffee shop for the profit. Not my idea,” he groused, and Jaskier grinned. He paused for a moment and then said, “I’ve a few friends, but not many.”

“Yennefer? How do you know her?”

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Through unfortunate circumstances,” he practically growled out, which made Jaskier grin, and he said back to him, “Oh, someone else who sees her a necessary evil. We seem to be a very good match, then,” and he picked up his water glass and took a sip, while Geralt hummed, a small smile of amusement around the corner of his lips.

“Any other friends?” he gently pressed, fiddling with the edge of his napkin again, and Geralt shrugged.

“Not really.”

At that, Jaskier wasn’t all that surprised, so he said nothing, and instead played with the napkin in his hands.

The silence lingered between the two of them, slightly uncomfortably, so Jaskier did what he was good at and began to mindlessly chatter away, anything to feel the void.

“So, I know you’re an owner, but it looks like you’ve owned the dojo for a while. That must be nice,” he mused, “Having a place to go to vent your frustrations. Lord knows I need it, what with the way my schedule has been recently. Hitting something sounds pretty good right about now.” The corner of Geralt’s mouth twitched up and Jaskier kept going, seeing that as a good sign. “I’ve never done anything like that before, don’t know if I’d be any good at it. I doubt it, but I’ll try anything once, just ask Maddy. She’s seen me in so many different ways that I have no shame around her anymore, but still manage to embarrass the hell out of myself on a regular basis around everyone else.”

Geralt snorted at that and remarked, “Doesn’t seem all too surprising. If you’d like a lesson, I could show you a few things,” he added, a slight smirk on his lips, and Jaskier was suddenly aware of the fact that he’d just been flirted with. And, quite possibly, propositioned.

“Uh, well, that’d be, uh, that-that would-that would be nice,” he finally managed to stammer out, and he swore the man’s smirk widened, as if enjoying flustering him.

Just as he was about to say something (and most likely embarrass himself even further), Ciri came by with a tray of their food.

“Here you go!” she said brightly, putting a mug and a small plate in front of Jaskier, and then a tall narrow glass of some sort of homebrewed beer and a plate of some sort of meat and bread. “Your favorite, Geralt, and soon-to-be your regular, Dandelion. Oh, sorry,” she quickly corrected herself, “I mean Jaskier.”

The musician waved her off and smiled, saying, “Don’t worry about it. Thank you for the food.”

“Anytime!”

She skipped away, back to the other tables and Jaskier couldn’t help but chuckle, and asked, “Is that girl anything but happy? I’ve never seen anyone so…upbeat.”

Geralt hummed and answered, “She wasn’t always that way. It took a couple of years for her to come out of her shell.” He put his napkin on his lap and then said, “She lost her parents when she was a baby, and her grandparents raised her, until they died in a car crash when she was eleven. That was when I took her in.”

Jaskier paused, his hand holding a piece of his cake midway between the plate and his mouth. My god…this man was looking more and more benevolent by the second.

“Oh, that’s so…” Jaskier swallowed and changed his words. “That’s so kind of you. You were a family friend?”

Geralt shrugged, finished a bite of whatever it was that he was eating, and answered, “Of a sort. I was more like a business associate of her grandparents.”

Jaskier nodded and went back to his food, and the conversation between them became intermittent, as they both enjoyed their food and Geralt let the musician steal a couple of bites from his plate. Jaskier didn’t know what it was, but it tasted wonderful. They conversed fairly easily, even though Jaskier held most of the conversation. He didn’t mind, though. Sure, Geralt mainly hummed and offered a single syllable word here and there, but it was enough.

Jaskier then noticed that more and more people were trickling into the café, and he looked up at Geralt and saw him smirking at him.

“Wh…what, why are you giving me that look?”

The man gestured with his perfectly chiseled jaw towards the far side of the room, where a platform stood, that also had a microphone on it. Jaskier fumbled for a moment, and then realized exactly what he was asking and felt like a complete idiot. With heat burning in his cheeks, he reached over and picked up his guitar, trying not to fumble with it as he made his way to the small stage, being careful to not bump into the other patrons, though a few of them smiled and waved at him.

He attempted to wave back, but nearly tripped over his own feet, and so instead focused on getting up there and starting his set. He had a few songs that were easy and generally crowd pleasers, so Jaskier figured that he would stick with that. Yes, there were a couple that were newly written, but he decided to wait until he was able to clean them up a bit before performing them.

As he put the guitar strap over his shoulder, he caught Geralt’s eye, who smiled right back at him.

He thought over his songs and decided to start with a piece he wrote called Welly Boots, and began plucking the opening chords while throwing glances over to Geralt in the corner, a smile sneaking onto the corner of his mouth as he sang, sinking into the song. He loved the rhythm and the sound of it, and it was easy to smile with a song that always brought him bittersweet memories. As he got into the chorus, the crowd started to clap along and pick up the pace with him.

God, he loved it.

“You were always strong,” he sang, “When you were young, you’d kick things just to see if they would fall…”

He saw Geralt smirk at that line and he felt even stronger as he threw himself into the song, only missing Madeline a little bit as he sang. She usually was the echo in the song, though it wasn’t necessary, but he knew he could hold the song on his own, so he went ahead and finished the five minute long song with a soft finger picking and dropping his voice down until it faded to silence.

He then moved onto Fair, and found unable to keep his eyes from Geralt as he sang the entire song, giving him a wide smile as he sang the words, “I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades at night when light was fading,” and he could have sworn that the man’s eyes went soft as he sang that at him.

He played a couple of other songs and then respectfully bowed down and took his leave of the small stage.

As soon as he went to sit down, however, Geralt stood and slid an arm around his waist and said into his ear, “You’re coming upstairs with me,” and Jaskier grinned.

He let himself be manhandled up the winding stairs and, as soon as they were up on the top floor, Jaskier found himself shoved up against a very large door that lead into what he assumed was Geralt’s private apartment. Geralt groped his ass with one hand as he unlocked the door with the other--and then they were falling through the doorway, Geralt’s lips attached to his neck as he kicked the door shut behind them, and Jaskier was certain that the noise carried and that everyone down on the first floor knew exactly what was going on between them at that moment.

…But in the next moment, he no longer cared, letting his guitar case slip from his hand, sinking into the man as he effortlessly picked him up, encouraging him to wrap his legs around his firm midsection. Jaskier’s eyes rolled back in his head at feeling the muscles of Geralt’s lower back flex under the muscles of his calves as he walked them towards what he assumed was the bedroom.

He was right, and then he was on his back, a curtain of white hair falling to either side of his face as Geralt dragged his lips up from his neck and pressed them to his own.

The musician melted under the touch, unable to stop the arch of his back, which Geralt took shameless advantage of and slid one hand under him, holding him to him so that their stomachs were flush and Jaskier was trembling under his mouth, gasping for breath as the older man took soft, sip-like kisses from his lips, as if he was drinking him in, savoring him like a fine wine.

His other hand was braced on the bed next to Jaskier’s side, so he scrambled and brought his own hand up and tangled his fingers with his, squeezing gently, silently trying to tell Geralt he wanted more.

As if Geralt knew exactly what Jaskier asked, he shifted slightly and then the kisses were long, drags of his tongue between Jaskier’s lips and he moaned and returned it as best he could.

He was soon reduced to a writhing mess as Geralt managed to get the rest of his clothes off him, as well as his own, and now had his mouth wrapped around his cock, and, oh holy god, the man had no gag reflex and Jaskier was dying, but what a way to go. Slick, wet heat engulfed him, and he felt all higher brain functions cease to work, his entire universe narrowed down to the point of connection where Geralt was trying to pull his brains out through his dick.

Not that he was really complaining, of course, and he vainly attempted to reciprocate, running his hands through his hair as he weakly thrusted into his mouth, not entirely sure if he wanted to get off now, or wait until the man was inside of him, because, either way, it was going to be _amazing._

If he did it right, maybe he could do it both times. Ambitious, but he was pretty sure that he could do it for Geralt.

He managed to breathe out, “G-Geralt…I’m…I’m going to…”

He hummed, and it was _over._

He came down his throat, his hips lightly thrusting, Jaskier unable to help it, but Geralt just _went_ with it and he was even more far gone on the man. He pulled Geralt’s mouth back up to his and gave him a dirty kiss, tasting himself on him, and let out a groan, pulling him closer, needing to taste even more of it.

Geralt gently pushed him back against the pillows and then murmured into his neck, “I want to fuck you,” and Jaskier whined and gasped out, “Yes, yes, please, oh god, fuck _yes,_ ” and the other man lifted his head form his neck long enough to throw him a smirk, but Jaskier had absolutely no shame in begging. Especially when it was a man that perfect and gorgeous. “As you wish, then,” he muttered, sliding down Jaskier’s front, while his hand moved up to his mouth and Jaskier sucked Geralt’s first two fingers between his lips.

Geralt mouthed lightly at his cock and Jaskier squirmed, not able to get away, over sensitized, but eager to feel the man’s fingers inside of him.

He got his wish soon enough, Geralt sliding his finger into him, thick and just the right amount of pressure. Jaskier keened as Geralt prepped him, one finger quickly becoming two, and then three…and he was arching into him, words falling from his lips. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying, but he was certain that he was begging in some way.

It felt like he was tormenting him with how slowly he moved his fingers in and out of him.

He hadn’t seen the man’s cock because of the angle he was at on the bed, but Jaskier was certain that he was bigger than average just from the way that the man walked, and he found himself panting over the thought, desperate to finally actually _feel_ it inside of him. He was probably going to be ruined for forever, but he didn’t care. It would be worth it, he was _certain_ of it.

Geralt’s fingers suddenly slipped out of him and Jaskier heard himself actually _whine_ , and he wanted to be embarrassed about it, but Geralt didn’t give him a chance, rising up to his knees and lining himself up.

He then gently pressed forward against him, a firm, steady slide, and, as if his body had been waiting for him, Jaskier felt himself open up underneath him like he’d done it a thousand times before, and he felt all of the air punched out of his chest as Geralt slid home inside of him. God, he was _still_ moving forward, holy _fuck_ , he was right, the man was _hung._ Like a fucking horse. And he was thick, too. He practically sobbed as Geralt’s cock kept sliding into him, but then he was _finally_ fully seated…and Jaskier suddenly needed the man to fuck him straight into the mattress.

Making a decision, he slid his thighs a bit higher around Geralt’s waist and dug his heels firmly into the top of the man’s buttocks.

“Fuck…me...,” he managed to breathe out.

And that was enough.

And then Jaskier proceeded to lose track of time as Geralt leaned over him for leverage and started to effortlessly snap his hips into him, driving his cock home with every thrust, and his eyes rolled up into his head as the older man nailed his prostate with every other thrust, the bed shaking beneath them.

Geralt breathed heavily into Jaskier’s neck, grunting, nearly growling, and Jaskier shakily brought up a hand and slid it into the silvery white locks and held onto it for dear life. He tugged at it on a particularly _delicious_ thrust, and the action only seemed to spur him on even more. Not that the singer was complaining. In fact, he encouraged it by tugging a second time, but then that earned him a hand wrapping around his wrist and wrenching it away from Geralt’s hair, and he hissed into his ear as he continued to thrust, “Do that one more time, and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Oh, fuck. That should _not_ turn him on as much as it did.

But it did.

“Oh, god, yes,” he breathed out, unable to help himself, and then Geralt pulled his head back far enough from Jaskier’s neck to lock eyes with him, and his hips slowed. Honestly, that was the _last_ thing Jaskier wanted, and he whined up at him, “No, no, no, no, don’t stop, I’ll promise I’ll be good…”

Geralt smirked.

“What if I don’t want you to?”

He then thrusted into him. Hard. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat.

Jaskier was then taken off guard as Geralt leaned back, bringing the singer along with him, one hand around his hip, the other wrapped around the back of his shoulder, so that Geralt was sitting up and Jaskier felt himself slide down a _little_ bit more (which he didn’t even think was _possible_ ) and he breathed out heavily through his nose as he settled onto Geralt’s thighs. His cock was trapped between the two of them, the weeping head pressed up into the cleft of Geralt’s abs, trailing white stickiness over his skin.

The burly man then leaned in and breathed into his ear, “Tell me how good it feels,” and Jaskier choked on his next words as Geralt then yanked hard on his hips, causing him to cry out as he nailed his prostate head on, pun fully intended. “Tell me how badly you want my cock.”

“Oh, fuck yes, I want your cock so badly,” he managed to get out, not even hesitating, and apparently those were the right words, because he was rewarded with several more rapid thrusts to exactly the same spot as before, causing his vision to swim and his back to arch. Geralt held him effortlessly with just one hand on his hip, his other hand reaching down between them to tug on Jaskier’s neglected cock, his grip perfect and tight as he drew it up his length and then rubbed on the underside with his thumb, spreading the precome over the head of his cock.

Jaskier cried out, thrusting his hips up into the grip and then Geralt shoved him back down onto his cock with his other hand, and he suddenly knew that this was _definitely_ how he was going to die.

And he was going to love every. Single. Second. Of it.

Geralt soon had the two of them in a rhythm that Jaskier had no hopes of catching up to, so he let himself be used, maneuvered around like a rag doll on puppet strings, and something about being used just for Geralt’s pleasure made him purr inside with contentment at the fact that the older man had chosen _him_ to be the person to do so.

The pleasure built up from the base of his spine, like a fire from the inside. Geralt grunted and kept on using him, and Jaskier relished every single second of it.

He was burning up and felt the sweat that clung to both of them, making the slide all the more sweeter, aiding in every single thrust. God, he knew that he was about to come, but he didn’t want to. He wanted the moment to last forever. He barely knew the man, but his body lit up as if it had known him intimately for years.

Geralt suddenly slowed down, and Jaskier whimpered.

“Why…why are you…slowing…down?” he gasped out, getting out a word every thrust, and Geralt leaned in and pressed his lips to his pulse point, and then swept his tongue up to his ear and murmured in that gravelly voice of his, “I want to make this last…”

Oh _fuck._

Yes. This was how he was going to die: fucked to death by the best cock he’d ever come across in his life. Not that he was complaining. If he had to go, then what a way to go.

Geralt slowed his thrusts to almost nothing, and Jaskier whimpered a second time, desperate for more contact, but Geralt wouldn’t let him, using his sheer strength to control him, sliding him up and down over his cock at his own pleasure, and it was somehow the worst and best thing that Jaskier had ever experienced, and, _fuck_ , he didn’t want it to end, either.

He managed to get up enough energy to lift his arms from where they had been laying listlessly at his sides and wrapped them around Geralt’s neck, pinning Geralt’s hand and his own cock between the two of them.

Jaskier then weakly thrusted down, trying to force him to pick his pace back up, but he didn’t, instead he tightened his one-handed grip on his waist and held him steady. Jaskier whimpered into the hair at the man’s temple and twisted his head so that he could press his lips to the high arch of his cheekbone, shuddering with every small movement upwards of Geralt’s hips, simultaneously overwhelmed but also feeling like they were sharing something much more intimate than sex as the older man softly grunted into his ear.

Finally, after a long moment, Jaskier brokenly breathed out, “Pl…please, Geralt…”

And that seemed to do the trick.

He picked up his pace slightly, and then shifted himself--and then Jaskier was seeing stars, as Geralt proceeded to hit his prostate with perfect proficiency, pushing him to edge in a sudden swell of pleasure of heat that licked up the back of spine, causing him to arch his back and cry out as Geralt squeezed his cock at the same time and then he was _coming--_

And he was on his back, Geralt on top of him thrusting rapidly and then he was coming, too, explosively, and Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed and over sensitive from all the sensations, but already knowing that if Geralt wanted to go again, he would do it in a heartbeat. He didn’t know what it was, he thought to himself as he held him to his chest as he came hot and messy inside of him, but he didn’t want to let this man go, and it didn’t have anything to do with the sex…okay, so that was a lie, he admitted to himself, but it wasn’t _entirely_ about the sex, even as he lay there with come inside of him as well as over his stomach and chest.

Geralt grunted again, held himself up on his arms to either side of Jaskier’s shoulders, but Jaskier reached up and pulled him down, not caring about the stickiness between their stomachs.

He ran his fingers through the man’s silver gray hair, trying to catch his breath, and then Geralt muttered, “I must be crushing you,” but Jaskier shook his head and gasped out, “Not at all, it feels nice,” and he heard Geralt snort, obviously not believing him, and then he raised slightly on his forearms, yet again.

He locked eyes with him.

“Stay the night?” Geralt asked him, reaching down between them and running his fingers through the white mess on their stomachs, and then lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them between his lips, and Jaskier felt the air punched out of him at the visual, and he managed to nod and reply, “Ye…yes, that would, that would…be quite lovely…”

Geralt gave him a feral grin, his gold eyes practically glowing, and then leaned down and pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to his lips.

When he pulled back, he said, “Stay here. I’ll go get something to clean you up with,” and left Jaskier sprawled on his back, legs open, come still slightly spilling out from his hole, feeling thoroughly debauched.

By the time he came back, Jaskier was halfway to sleep, his limbs heavy and his eyes drifting. He slowly came to as Geralt used a lukewarm towel to wipe him down and then gently reach between his thighs and clean the rest of him up. It felt far intimate than what they had just done, but it also felt natural, like they had done it a hundred times before, and Jaskier briefly wondered at that, but his wondering was interrupted by Geralt reaching under him and tugging free the sheets and pulling them up and over the both of them.

As he drifted asleep, Geralt’s chest pressed up to his back, his burly arm thrown possessively over Jaskier’s side, he wondered if Geralt felt the same.

\--

When he woke up, he was slightly disoriented, but then memories of the night before came back to him in a flood of sensation and emotions, and he turned slightly and smiled when he heard faint snoring coming from behind him on the bed, and then turned a bit more and saw a shock of silver gray hair on the pillow right next to him.

Jaskier reached out and gently pulled back a strand of hair that fell across his face, admiring him in the early morning light that spilled across the bed.

At that, Geralt stirred and his eyes blinked lazily, reminding Jaskier of a cat, and then murmured, “You’re still here,” and Jaskier murmured back to him, “You asked me to stay…”

A beat. And then--

“I did.”

Geralt woke up a bit more and then propped himself up on his elbow and used his other hand to pull Jaskier closer to him and pressed a loving kiss to his lips as his hand caressed his hip, and then said, “I must admit that I thought that you wouldn’t be here when I woke up. Most people it’s just one and done,” he admitted, and Jaskier saw the first hint of insecurity in that marble façade of his and so couldn’t help himself as he reached up and gently pressed his fingers against the older man’s lips.

Jaskier then said, “I was thinking much longer than that, if you don’t mind. Say…forever?”

God. Fuck. What was wrong with him? They’d barely known each other two _days_ , and he’d just done the equivalent of practically proposing to him after just one night of passion! He closed his eyes and winced preparing himself for the incredulous laugh, for the scoff that he was used to having thrown his way when he did stuff like that.

Jaskier had always worn his heart on his sleeve and knew that he fell in love remarkably easily, and it always bit him in the ass in moments such as this one.

So, he was taken aback when he felt soft fingers tilting his chin up and the brush of lips against his jaw, and then heard Geralt breathe out, “Forever sounds good…”

His eyes shot open and he looked him in the eye, looking for any sign of mocking in his gaze or some sort of smirk around the corner of his mouth, making fun of him, but when he found no trace of it, only the most earnest and honest expression on his face, he couldn’t help but grin.

“Forever, then. It’s settled,” he said, and Geralt grinned right back at him.

God, his smile was practically _blinding_ , and Jaskier basked in it, and then let himself be pulled over Geralt’s thighs in a show of sudden strength, and then Geralt said, “What do you say to performing here every weekend? And I can keep you up here in my bedroom the rest of the week?”

Jaskier smiled.

“I like that idea…”

Geralt pulled him down for another kiss, and then, as they slowly pulled back from it, Jaskier said, sounding reluctant, “Oh, gods, does this mean that I have to thank Yen for getting us together?” and Geralt chuckled as Jaskier groaned, and replied, gently squeezing his waist, “I won’t tell her if you won’t,” and Jaskier snorted and said, “Oh, trust me, one look at me and she’ll know. Trust me,” he added, “That woman has an almost supernatural ability to tell when someone’s gotten laid.”

Geralt grunted back at him, and then sat up, pressed a hot, wet kiss to Jaskier’s neck, and then said, “If she’ll know, might as well go another round, don’t you think?”

Jaskier laughed as Geralt rolled the both of them over, so that the burly man was on top of him, knees to either side of his legs, morning hardness brushing against the singer’s thigh, and then gasped out as the man ran his tongue down his sternum, “Might as well…”

Geralt tossed him a wink and then moved down lower and Jaskier groaned.

As he sucked his cock between his lips, Jaskier dug his fingers into his hair and gasped out, “I almost…almost didn’t come into the coffee shop, you know…” Geralt pulled back just long enough to arch an eyebrow at him and ask, “Why not?” and then went right back to work, forcing Jaskier to swallow, gasp, and then say as Geralt did something fabulous with his tongue, “I-I was told the owner was…” _Fuck._ “Was an absolute nightmare to deal with.”

Geralt pulled off Jaskier’s cock with an obscene pop and then moved back up to his neck.

He then said into his ear, “The owner _is_ a nightmare to deal with,” and Jaskier chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t think he’s too bad,” he replied, gently squeezing at his sides, but then Geralt pulled away from his neck, laughing, and then pulled back far enough to look the singer in the eye and say, “I’m not the owner. The head trainer is: his name’s Vesemir, and he’s impossible to deal with. Trust me.”

And then Jaskier started laughing as well, and said, “Oh, gods, I’m an idiot! I thought that _you…_ gods, I’m stupid…”

His voice trailed off, and Geralt nodded and said, “You _are_ an idiot. But you’re my idiot.”

He then leaned down and pressed a sweet, yet thoroughly searching kiss on his lips, and Jaskier moaned into it and pressed himself up against his hard body as much as he could, looking forward to the rest of their morning…and all the mornings after.

Thank _fuck_ he’d stepped into that damn coffee shop.


End file.
